


Holding Patterns

by inkling



Series: Mike/Rayna [2]
Category: Emergency!
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-10
Updated: 2009-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-04 07:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkling/pseuds/inkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holding patterns: what we do when we're waiting for the other shoe to drop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Patterns

**Author's Note:**

> © 2000 inkling. Standard "they don't belong to me they just come out to play now and then" disclaimers apply. "Emergency!" and its characters © Mark VII Productions, Inc. and Universal Studios. All rights reserved. No infringement of any copyrights or trademarks is intended or should be inferred. The settings and characters are fictitious, even when a real name may be used. Any similarity to actual persons, living or deceased, or to actual events is purely coincidental and is not intended to suggest that the events described actually occurred.
> 
>  
> 
> Gratuitous authorial commentary: Many many virtual Kahlua brownies and roses to MJ and MaryKate, for continually insisting this was a story, and not just "sappy Mikey drivel." Also to JoAnn, for telling me more than once that it was okay to write a romance. /shudder/ You three all know that if I could, my gratitude would see to it that your favorite dark-haired man showed up to wine and dine you and... well, I'll leave the rest up to you. (MJ and JoAnn, no fighting over the virtual goods, now. And MK, if certain folks are still in the...ah...dungeon, I can always corral virtual Mr. Lea for you.... ;-)

_He promised he would love her_

_till the blackbirds stopped their singing_

_the mission bell stopped ringing_

_and they closed the coal pit down._

 

_~~John Tams_

 

 

"Chet, will you just shut up!" 

 

Shocked silence followed Mike's outburst, and his face flamed under the unblinking stares of the other five men around the table.  Avoiding anyone's gaze, Mike threw his fork down.  He shoved his chair back and was up and away from the table before the utensil finished clattering.  The stifling silence followed him out into the vehicle bay, only to be broken by Chet's voice.

 

"You know, I don't care if that accident freaked him out or not.  Stoker's been a real pai--"

 

"Kelly, shu--" Stanley caught himself before he repeated Mike's words, and instead said, "Just drop it." 

 

"But, Cap--"

 

"Kelly!"  The locker room door closed behind Mike, cutting off Cap's stern voice, and he took a deep breath.  It really wasn't fair for him to take his stress out on Chet.  It wasn't Chet's fault that the third vehicle in the three-car accident they'd just returned from working was a Toyota Corolla--the same make and yellow-bordered-in-rust color as Rayna's.  And it sure as heck wasn't Chet's fault that what Mike thought was red hair on the female collapsed against the driver's door was in reality only bloody blonde.  Someone else's lover and soulmate had lain battered and broken and very very dead in that car--not his.  Mike had felt both guilt and relief as he laid the unfamiliar head gently back against the twisted door and went to help extricate the remaining live victims. 

 

And no one said anything if they noticed he kept his back as much as possible toward the faux-Rayna resting in her look-alike car.

 

Even now it wasn't as if Chet was being anything different than his usual annoying self, riding Mike and shooting off his mouth and just making a general fool of himself all over the place.  No one had really appreciated Marco's blunting effect on Chet's loud mouth until he wasn't there any more.  The fire and subsequent building collapse that had cemented Mike's relationship with Rayna had left Marco with a crippled leg, reducing him from firefighter to the bodiless voice coming out of the dispatch speaker on the station wall.  But even with Marco's absence, Mike could usually shrug Chet off when he got annoying.  He could always go read or polish the engine or subtly direct the Irishman's incessant mouth in Gage's direction. 

 

But ignoring Chet required concentration, and concentration was one thing Mike didn't have these days.  He used to, back before he had lead weights filling his gut every time there wasn't a fire to fight or a rescue to occupy his mind.  All appearances to the contrary, there was a lot of down time in a firefighter's life, and these days, as much as Mike tried, he couldn't keep his thoughts from wandering toward home and what--who--wasn't there any more. 

 

 

Mike stood slowly, staring at the picture, before placing it carefully on the shelf in his locker.  Two months and one lifetime ago they _had_ been a matched set, he and Rayna.  Closing the locker door, Mike leaned his forehead against it, staring down at the floor and fighting the tightening in his throat.  For the last year and a half they'd been a matched set, ever since that awful February day when he'd turned up on Rayna's doorstep, wounded and blindly seeking comfort in her embrace. 

 

But the only doorstep left for him to turn up on these days led to his own house, and Rayna wasn't there anymore.

 

Blinking against the despair that threatened to overwhelm him, Mike turned and headed for the vehicle bay.  The engine still had some mud on it from the run out to the zucchini farm  this morning.  It would give him something to concentrate on besides the fact that he'd been eating and sleeping alone for the last few nights and, from the looks of things, his and Rayna's "matched set" might be broken up for good.

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

_And will you never return to see_

_your bruised and beaten sons?_

_Oh I would, I would if welcome I were_

_but they loathe me, every one._

 

_~~Traditional English Folk song_

 

 

"Mike?  You about ready, pal?"

 

Mike turned from where he was buttoning up his flannel shirt.  Their shift over even as Mike had been transported to the hospital, Captain Stanley had taken the time to replace his uniform with a red knit shirt and a pair of jeans before bringing Mike's things to Rampart.  Now he stood half in and half out of the treatment room doorway, holding the door open with his body.  Seeing Mike was pretty well dressed, he came on into the room.  Mike reached for his wallet lying on the counter, and groaned when that simple action caused the ache in his sore ribs and shoulders to flare up.

 

"Mike?" came Cap's concerned query, and Mike bit his lip and shook his head.  Tucking his shirt in, he offered a wan smile, knowing the dark bruises surrounding the butterfly bandages on the right side of his face didn't help matters any.

 

"Just bruises, no stitches, nothing broken--except maybe my pride.  Not even a concussion.  Doc says I'm okay, just take it easy for the next couple of days."

"And no more body bowling," Cap admonished, chuckling.  "Though I have to admit, the sight of you trying to keep your balance sliding through all those suds was pretty funny--right up to where you went down and took all those baskets with you."  He shuddered.

 

Mike chuckled and then hissed ruefully and put a hand on his sore ribs.  He kept the hand there as he bent over to pick up his tennis shoes from the floor. 

 

"Just reminds me of all the reasons why I bought a place with a laundry room," he said.  Glancing around, he appropriated the same rolling stool that Doctor Morton had used while bandaging up his face.  He sat and shoved his feet into his shoes.  It only took a moment to do up the laces on one.  He reached for the other, glancing up at Cap when he didn't hear a response from his superior.  Hands braced on his hips, Cap was staring at him chewing on one lip thoughtfully, but when he caught Mike's gaze, he smiled.

 

"Yeah, I never did see the appeal of doing laundry in a Laundromat.  Then again, unlike Gage, I never did have much luck picking up dates over dirty underwear."

 

Mike grinned.  Yeah, Johnny had a knack of picking up girls in the strangest places.  Keeping them was another matter entirely.  Mike had never had as many dates as the dark-haired paramedic, but he'd managed to hold on to them far longer--until it came to the one he wanted to hold on to forever.  Refusing to follow that train of thought any further, Mike stood.

 

"How's the victim?"

 

Cap snorted.  "Hyperventilation Syndrome.  Gave her a paper bag to breathe into, rinsed the suds away with the reel line and she was fine.  Didn't even have to transport her.  If they hadn't had to ride in with you Johnny and Roy could have been back at the station before we were."

 

Mike kicked at the pile of wet, shredded shirts on the floor by his feet.  "Well, I think I'm gonna make those two pay me for the new uniform.  They didn't have to cut mine off," he grumbled.

 

"Sure they did, pal, sure they did," Cap said, grinning as Mike scowled.  "They're equal opportunity paramedics.  They treated you just like they would any other victim with potentially fractured ribs."

 

Mike ducked his head to hide his deepening scowl.  He wasn't any other victim; he was a crewmate.  Besides, he had a sneaking suspicion the two had done it on purpose, in return for his sullen mood over the last two shifts.  Squatting, he pulled his badge and name tag off the remains of his shirt.  It was an easy decision to leave the sodden scraps for the hospital orderly to clean up.  He pocketed the items as he stood and followed Cap out into the hall.

 

"Mike, why don't--"

 

"Mike, just a minute!"  Mike and Cap turned around, avoiding traffic in the crowded hall.  Dixie hurried up, holding a clip-board out to Mike.  "Now, you know you can't get out of here that easily, don't you, Mr. Stoker?" she teased as Mike groaned.  Taking the clipboard, he quickly scrawled his name in all the places she indicated, then shoved the clipboard back at her.  "Ah ah ah!" she said, as he half-turned to leave.  Arms at his side, trying not to tap one foot impatiently on the floor, Mike waited as she tore carbons and copies apart, then handed him three separate sheets of paper.  "Now you're free to go.  And," she paused, smiling brightly, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope we don't see you anytime soon."

 

Cap laughed and clapped Mike on the back.  Mike hoped his smile covered the wince he couldn't help at the contact with his sore shoulder.  Following Stanley down the hall, he snuck a look over his shoulder and, seeing Dixie's attention captured by another nurse, he quietly dropped the papers she had given him in nearby garbage can.  Turning, he nearly ran into Cap.

 

"How d'you expect to make Captain, Michael, when you have such a disrespectful attitude towards paperwork?"  Stanley shook his head as he reached in the garbage and separated out the forms Mike had discarded, holding them up and letting someone's leftover coffee drip off them while he stared at Mike.  "Unless you want to pay for this little visit out of your own pocket?"  It was Mike's turn to shake his head, and Stanley grinned.  "I thought not.  I need these forms to turn in with my incident report.  Though what Chief McConnike will say about the incident itself..."  Cap shook the last few drops of coffee off the papers, then carefully folded them and stuck them into his back pocket.  Catching Mike's elbow, he waved towards the interior of the hospital.

 

"How about I buy you breakfast?"  Letting go of his arm, Cap watched while Mike hesitated.  "That is, unless you have a reason to hurry home?"

 

Mike flinched, and refused to meet Cap's gaze.  No, he didn't have any reason to hurry home.  Not any more.  Recognizing the request as more than half command, he realized he'd been expecting this anyway.

 

"Sure," he said, and followed the other man down the hall.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

_Hangman, oh hangman, hold your rope awhile._

_I think I see my lover, over yonder stile._

_Lover did you bring me gold, and have you brought any fee_

_For to save my body from the cold clay ground_

_And my neck from the gallows tree?_

 

_~~Traditional English Folk Song_

 

 

The rattle and clatter of the cafeteria swelled and filled the silence that rested between the two men.  Mike twiddled his fork in the inedible, gluey mass masquerading as hash browns on his plate.  He'd managed to down at least half of the bacon and eggs breakfast before his own masquerade got to be more than he could pull off.  He dropped the fork and pushed the tray to one side, reaching out to pick up his coffee cup as Stanley happily polished off his second stack of pancakes.  Mike sipped the dregs of his coffee and tried to ignore the unwelcome pattering of all the lives going on normally around him.

 

Finally, Cap sighed heavily and pushed his plate aside.  Leaning back in his chair, he sipped his coffee and distastefully eyed the twisted, fatty bacon congealing into the yellow yolk on Mike's plate.

 

"You know, in places like this I find it's usually safer to go with the pancakes.  There's just not a lot you can do to mess up pancakes."  Still eyeing Mike's plate, he shivered and took a sip of his coffee.  Mike smiled faintly and played with his own, empty coffee cup.  He knew where Cap was going next; he just didn't know if he'd be able to come up with any satisfactory answers.

 

"So, you got everything you need to prepare for the Captain's exam?"

 

Stanley's cup hit the table as he watched Mike.  The noise of the cafeteria lapped around their table while Cap waited, and Mike wished his need to gather his thoughts and hop on over to this tangent wasn't so obvious. 

 

After a second, he nodded.

 

"Yeah.  Picked it all up at Dispatch before we..."  His voice faded and he swallowed hard.  "Before we left."

 

Cap nodded, twirling his cup around before him.  Mike sighed and shoved his own coffee cup aside.  He'd given Cap the opening he needed; inadvertently, perhaps, but he'd provided it.

 

"So, how did that go?  That was a big trip you two had scheduled, meeting the families and all."

 

Mike hesitated, but he knew from experience that Cap's patience was immense.  The small table between them was littered with anonymous scratches and scars, scattered like strange grey runes across the white Formica, and Mike rubbed absently at one with a thumb.  Too bad he couldn't read the darn things; maybe he'd find some answers for his current dilemma.  He supposed he should be grateful that Cap was dealing with things this way, a friendly breakfast in neutral territory, instead of a dressing down in his office.  Mike knew he'd been hard to get along with lately; he'd been sullen and surly and all the other negative adjectives that no one ever used to describe him before...before.

 

"It was okay."  Fine.  If Cap wanted more information, let him dig for it.

 

"Rayna's dad didn't have a shotgun waiting for you when you got there?" Cap asked, his eyes crinkling just a bit to take the sting out of the comment.  He knew as well as Mike that it wasn't his idea that he and Rayna weren't married, a year after she had moved in with him.

 

"Rayna's dad is dead.  He died when she was four," Mike said, and hated himself for the fleeting feeling of satisfaction provided by the look of consternation on Cap's face.

 

"Oh," Cap said, and Mike straightened in his chair.  His conscience needling him, he volunteered a little more information.

 

"Her mom owns an antique store; her step-dad works at Boeing."  Cap nodded encouragingly, and Mike shrugged.  "We got along fine."

 

"And...what's her name, Trini?"  Cap probed some more.  Mike responded reluctantly. 

 

"Yeah."  He knew Cap was waiting, so he smiled slightly, and said, "Rayna on speed."

 

Cap's eyebrows drew together and he frowned.  Mike hurried to clarify.

 

"She's very...eighteen." 

 

Cap's expression cleared and he nodded sagely, his eyes twinkling. 

 

"Yeah.  I hear that.  Makes you wonder where it all goes, and if there wasn't some way you could make them slow down and save some of it for when they're old and grey, like me."

 

Mike smiled in reply.  Rayna's daughter hadn't inherited the statuesque build Rayna and her own mother shared, but she had received the family's fiery looks--along with the fiery temperament typically associated with them.  Just back from a year-long student exchange in Europe, Trini was definitely more vivacious and outgoing than her mother.  She had embarrassed Mike thoroughly as she oohed and aahed over "Mom's fireman" and begged him endlessly to introduce her to some of his firemen friends.  In spite of Mike's constant discombobulation around Trini, the time he and Rayna had  spent in Seattle had flown by, full of laughter and fun.

 

Looking up, Mike caught Cap's gaze on him and flushed, feeling suddenly vulnerable as the flow of memories brought the emotions he'd fought all week dangerously close to the surface.  To cover his confusion, he tried to distract his superior officer.

 

"Trini kept begging us to find her a fireman."

 

Cap laughed out loud at that.

 

"Some things never change," he said, then nodded to Doctors Brackett and Early as they passed by on their way out of the room.  By the time his attention returned to Mike, Mike hoped his feelings were safely tucked away, out of sight.  The silence stretched between them, grew, and threatened to overwhelm the fragile cease-fire Mike had obtained with his emotions.

 

"So," Cap finally said, pushing his coffee cup away.  "You got along fine with her family."

 

His throat dry, Mike nodded and stared off into the distance, through the huge windows that let in the light and a great view of the other wing of the hospital.  Above the asphalt and concrete and glass, a teeny slice of sky was visible.  But there weren't any answers written there for him either.  Maybe the space just wasn't big enough to cover everything he'd screwed up at this point.  Besides, Rayna was the one who saw things in that light, and she wasn't around to ask these days.

 

"Yeah, they're great," he finally said.  They were great, if more than slightly batty and a bit bossy and definitely coming from somewhere more than a few degrees off center--and he might never see them again.  He pushed that thought away, looking up to find Cap's eyes on him, sympathy making them even darker than normal. 

 

"So, how'd it go with your family then?"

 

Ouch.  The question hung there, between them, and Mike sighed.  He stared down at his hand, deeply scored by a wire from a particularly vicious laundry basket, then let his eyes wander along a crack in the side of the flaming orange chair he sat on.  Someone somewhere dropped a pan; the sharp clang of metal on the floor temporarily stilling the swirling conversations about them.  Mike waited until things picked up again before he answered.

 

"Things were fine," he said, swallowing and clearing his throat to get his voice down into its normal register.  Cap frowned, and Mike shrugged briefly, wincing as the movement reminded him of his sore muscles.  Still staring at his hand, he went on.  Might as well get it over with.  "Mom got along fine with Rayna.  Leonard...well, he doesn't approve of us not being married.  But Mom, at least, was glad I'm settling down."

 

Cap's lips twisted in a wry grin, and Mike decided to keep to himself the private conversation he'd had with his mom before he began the long, lonely drive home.  She'd told him that his dad, his real dad, who'd died when Mike was eleven, would have liked Rayna.  It hadn't helped what had happened, but it meant a lot to Mike.  Cap waited an infinite moment longer, then asked softly, "So what happened?"

 

Mike hunched his shoulders, reaching out to play with the salt shaker before answering.  He hadn't talked to anyone except his mom about any of this since he'd dropped a silent and hostile Rayna off at the train station in Eugene last week.  Maybe it was time.  And at least Cap would be sympathetic, even if he didn't understand.

 

"Well, first my step-dad's mom threw a fit when she arrived and found out Rayna and I were sharing a bedroom."

 

"Wha--" Cap started to ask, but Mike cut him off.  He couldn't stop now, he had to get it out.  Then maybe, just maybe, he could try to pull some sense out of the ashes his life had become.

 

"We're 'living in sin'," he said, and told himself he couldn't help the sarcastic tone to his voice.  "She couldn't believe they were encouraging us by letting us sleep together under their roof.  Made such a fuss that Leonard insisted we not share a bedroom while she was there."

 

"What business was it of hers?  Or his, for that matter?" Cap demanded.  "You're both adults, for crying out loud.  You're capable of making your own decisions as to how you want to live your life."

 

Mike snorted.

 

"You're talking like you live in Los Angeles, Cap.  Home of the all the fruits and flakes and nuts in America; where everything sinful and impure and unrighteous in America gets its start.  My family, you're talking small-town, apple-pie, old-fashioned, self-righteous America.  Besides, you know how it is with family, Cap.  You never grow up, you're always just a snot-nosed kid."  Or, in Mike's case, a rebellious teen-ager who didn't appreciate all that he'd been given.

 

Cap shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face, and Mike sighed.  He hadn't even gotten to the really good stuff yet.  They both watched the salt shaker he set spinning until it slowed and stopped without falling off its base.  Darn thing was better than the Weebles he'd sent to his youngest niece and nephew last Christmas. 

 

"A couple of days later my sister Laura and her family came into town.  I haven't seen them in years.  Frank, my brother-in-law...he's...well...he's pretty...religious."  Mike paused, remembering.  Frank hadn't been there for more than a few hours before he'd started in on Mike and Rayna.  First it was why didn't they "legitimize" their relationship.  It had made Mike's skin crawl to hear some of the same arguments he'd used coming out this man's mouth.  But the second day they were there, Frank and Laura hit upon a new subject, one that had Mike wishing they'd go back to just needling him about his "illicit" relationship.  The new subject?  Rayna's own spiritual beliefs.

 

Not wishing to offend or start a fight, Rayna had been as vague as she could be about her own beliefs, and so had Mike.  But Frank had somehow ferreted out that the bookstore she managed dealt with "alternative spirituality" and after that it was open season on Rayna.  Mike had run interference as much as he could, and his mom had done her best to smooth things over and make the visit pleasant.  But Frank's refusal to drop the subject began to turn the house into a war zone, Rayna and Mike on one side, his sister and her husband and his step-father on the other, with Mike's mom stuck in between them all.  Mike's youngest brother and sister, nineteen-year-old Brandon and seventeen-year-old Rachel, had hovered wide-eyed on the edges of the conflict, trying to stay out of everyone's way. 

 

And, after a day or two, Rayna's annoyance with Frank and Laura's constant snide commentary about things she held dear had begun to spill over towards Mike.

 

The second night after Laura's arrival, Mike had gone with Leonard to pick up pizza for everyone.  They'd come home to find the house in an uproar and Frank and Rayna nearly at each other's throats.  Things had deteriorated rapidly from there.

 

Mike closed his eyes.  There really wasn't any way to explain it all to Cap, there just wasn't.  Finally, he said lamely, "Frank and Rayna got into an argument."  And what an argument.  Mike rubbed at another scratch on the table as he tried to explain how his world had begun to disintegrate.  "Frank...he said she was a witch and claimed she was 'destroying' me with her 'dark arts.'  Then he called her 'Jezebel' and a slut."  Mouth open, Cap stared at Mike in shock.  But Mike wasn't done yet.  "So Rayna got right back in his face and told him he was a narrow-minded, fundamentalist, bigoted, misogynistic pig."

 

Which, she'd later told Mike, he should have told Frank long before and saved her the trouble.

 

Cap closed his mouth and swallowed, still staring at Mike.  Mike smiled ruefully and tipped the salt shaker over.  He stared at the salt slowly pooling on the table, and waited as the other man groped for something to say.  Finally, Cap found his voice.

 

"My god."

 

"No, Frank and Leonard's god," Mike said bitterly, and shrugged away the other man's questioning glance.

 

Cap sighed heavily.  Around them the noise of daily life and daily tragedies ebbed and flowed.  But Mike sat in the middle of his own tragedy, one of comedic proportions, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.  There didn't seem to be a damn thing he could do to make things turn out any differently than they had--or stop them from following through to what he increasingly feared was their logical conclusion.

 

"What'd you do?" Cap asked, and instead of answering right away, Mike picked up the salt shaker and set it upright.  He hunched his shoulders and stared at the small pile of salt on the table.

 

"Frank and Laura threatened to take the kids away and never bring them back if Leonard let Rayna stay in the house another night.  Their kids are the only grandkids Mom and Leonard have.  So Leonard asked us to leave."

 

"Why in the world did they react that way to her?" Cap asked, incredulously.  "I'll admit, Rayna's unique, but that...that's unreal."

 

Unreal.  Yeah, the entire incident had been unreal, all right.  Mike still could hardly believe his nice, quiet, slightly stuffy family had erupted into such a frothing pack of religious zealots, with Rayna as the heretic du jour.  Cast as the bewildered knight in not-so-shining armor, Mike hadn't been much use at all in the joust between his love and his family.  He smiled grimly at Cap.

 

"My niece, Danielle, she's four.  She was sleeping on the floor in Rayna's room, got into Rayna's suitcase and found her tarot cards.  Frank found her playing with them, and went ballistic.  Had his kids so scared they ran and hid when Rayna walked into the room."

 

"Rayna tells fortunes?" Cap asked incredulously, and Mike sighed.  This, too, had been part of the conversation with his mother in the short hours before he'd left Leonard's house--for possibly the last time in his life.  Mike didn't think he'd ever forget the sadness in her eyes as she apologized for her husband, explaining that as a widow with two children, in a small town and with no real job skills, she really hadn't had a lot of choices all those years ago.  And now she had two more children, nearly grown, but who still needed both her and Leonard.  Pushing away the memory of his mother's aging face, Mike ran a finger through the small pile of salt.

 

"No, she teaches classes at the store and the community college.  Self-Actualization through Tarot.  Incorporates Jungian psychology and meditation and stuff into it.  It's not the same as a fortune teller, though it has some of the same elements.  Rayna has a Bachelors in Psychology," Mike added, hating how defensive he sounded for Rayna's sake, and hating himself because he knew it was more, much more than just pop psychology to Rayna.  But it was the easiest way he'd come up with to explain her eclectic spiritual beliefs and practices, even to himself.

 

Cap's eyebrows were up somewhere near his hairline, but he didn't say anything.  He just waited and watched as Mike swept the salt he'd spilled into his hand and dumped it into the remains of his breakfast.

 

"While we were in Seattle, Barbara, Rayna's mom, had given her a couple of antique Tarot decks she'd picked up, and Rayna had them in her suitcase."  Not quite the end of the story, but it might be the end of the best relationship Mike had ever had.

 

"So what happened after that?" Cap asked.

 

Mike sighed and swallowed, hard.  "That night at the hotel she...she accused me of taking up with her just to spite my family."  There.  It was out.  And he still didn't know if it made him mad or just hurt that she would accuse him of such a thing, that she would even think that's why he wanted to be with her.  "And then she insisted I take her to the train station the next morning.  She caught the Express up to Seattle, and I haven't seen or heard from her since.  It's been almost a week."

 

Silence reigned at the table, while Mike contemplated turning the pepper shaker on its side.  It wasn't like he and Rayna hadn't ever fought before this.  Like any couple, they had their disagreements, some more vocal than others.  But this had gone beyond anything he'd ever seen.  He hadn't known how to defend himself against Rayna's accusations anymore than he'd been able to shut Frank up that night.  About all he'd been able to do with his brother-in-law was physically wrestle Rayna's cards from the man when he'd tried to throw them into the fireplace.  Somehow he didn't think physically preventing Rayna from boarding the train would have gone over well.  So instead, Mike drove away from the train station in Eugene, angry and frustrated--and alone.

 

"You must have been pretty upset." Cap said, softly, and Mike nodded.  He took a deep breath, then dumped the last of the sad tale out for his Captain.

"I...I tried to tell her there was a reason my family's in Oregon and I'm in California, but...she wouldn't listen.  She said they're still my family, and not only did she not have the right to come between us, she refused to be used as a tool in my 'passive-aggressive plans for revenge'."  His throat was dry, and he picked his coffee cup up and stared blankly at the empty interior for a minute before he set it down and stared off into the distance again.  "She thinks I'm mad at my mom for marrying Leonard and she's my way of getting back at both of them."

 

Cap's gaze was on him again, more sympathy that Mike wasn't sure he wanted.

 

"Mike, I'm sure once she's had some time to think..." he started, and Mike looked away, shaking his head.

 

"I...I've been pushing her about getting married.  Kept asking her if it was just a piece of paper, why's she so scared of it?  The fire department won't acknowledge her as my legal next of kin unless we're married, and I can't put her on our insurance if she quits her job.  She'll have to quit, if she goes back to school, like we've been talking about if I make Captain."

 

"First Rayna thought getting married meant I was trying to control her life.  I managed to convince her that wasn't what it was about, at all.  And now she thinks I was just trying to get back at my stuffy WASP family by taking up with a weird witch woman from LA.  And all I really want--"  Mike's hands lost control of the pepper shaker and it clattered across the table, leaving a trail of tiny black dots across the white Formica with its inscrutable runes.  Cap caught the clear glass container before it fell to the floor, and set it carefully upright as Mike clenched his fists, shivering, blinking away the misery threatening to spill from his eyes.  "I just want to know when...if she's ever going to come home."

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

_No, I will never cut the cloth_

_Nor drink the light to be._

_But I will swear a year to the one who lies_

_Asleep alongside of me._

 

_~~Traditional English Folk song_

 

 

Two days later, the bruises on Mike's face and torso had begun their slow fade from spectacular to merely incredible.  The ache in his muscles had faded to where a constant dose of aspirin took care of it.  There wasn't anything he could do about the ache in his heart.  So Mike showed up for work, grimly determined to keep his personal problems out of the way--and out of the station's gossip grinder.  He tried for polite with the other guys and came off morose instead.  Cap must have said something to the rest of the crew, though, because they seemed to accept that as what he could give.  Everyone cut him a wider berth than normal, and even Chet forbore to needle him about anything.  As long as it wasn't pity they were handing out, Mike was okay.  Pity he'd had before, and he didn't like it now any better than he had then.

 

The biggest reaction he got from the guys was their shocked looks when Cap assigned him the latrine and the dorms for cleaning, but Mike was grateful for the solitary chores.  He'd rather sulk by himself, thank you very much.  And maybe, just maybe, he could manage to forget about the silence from Seattle for a minute or two at a time.  In a half-desperate plea for her return, he'd lit Rayna's candles when he got home last week, relighting them every time he came home.  This morning he couldn't bring himself to blow them out like he always did before he left the house for the day, like he always insisted she did, over her protests.  Somehow, blowing them out felt like putting too much distance between himself and Rayna, distance he didn't want or need right now. 

 

The shift kept them busy, accidents and small fires and heart attacks, all the staples of a firefighter's day.  Mike welcomed the work, threw himself into it, and tried not to think about tomorrow, about going home again to his empty house.  Rayna'd have to come back sometime, to get her things and claim Bardolph, at least.  Mike couldn't imagine her abandoning the big dog.  He spent the time cleaning the latrine and the dorm the same way he'd found himself spending his time at home:  composing and over-composing apologies to Rayna.  For his family, for himself, for life in general.  He'd picked up the phone to call her at least a dozen times over the last two days, but in the end he always stopped, afraid that what he was going to hear was a request to pack her stuff up for her.  Last night he'd almost called Marjorie, her assistant manager at the store, to see if she knew when Rayna planned to return, but he wasn't quite desperate enough to humiliate himself that far--yet.

 

The station was toned out on a three-alarm fire in a tire retread plant at three a.m., making it a long, hot night for the crew.  They pulled into the station half an hour before shift change, and wearily slid down from both vehicles.  Todd Murphy, B-shift's captain, came out of the day room, followed by half his crew.  Giving the soot blackened and weary firefighters a nod, he said, "You guys go ahead, we'll clean this mess up for you."

 

There was a chorus of grateful thanks from the other members of A-shift, and Mike plodded after them into the locker room.  He had his turnout coat off before the white paper taped to his locker registered.  Still holding his coat in both hands, he stared at the square blankly for a moment, then blinked and tilted his head to one side as he tried to make out the scribbled words.

 

"Hey, Mikey, that's English.  We read it right side up and from left to right," Chet said from beside him.  Mike didn't spare him a glance, just stared at the words again, trying to ignore the knot drawing his gut tight.  He put one hand out, and fingered the note, wondering about the one important piece of information it left out.

 

"Mike?" Roy's voice came from beside him, and Mike glanced over to find Chet and Roy staring at him, frowning in concern.  In the background Johnny hovered.  Cutler, whom they all still thought of as Marco's replacement, stood by his locker against the far wall and just watched.

 

He didn't say anything to them, just dropped his turnout coat on the bench before he pulled the note off his locker and, boots clumping, went in search of the information he needed.  The locker room door closing didn't quite cut off Chet's confused comment.

 

"It just said 'Your woman called, wants you to call her back.'" 

 

_Your woman.  _Mike hated that, hated the way the guys on the other shifts made his relationship sound so sordid, the way they pretended they didn't know what to call Rayna, who was more than a girlfriend, but less than a wife.  "Lover" fit the bill, but that seemed to make everyone, Mike included, nervous.  His crewmates on A-shift called her by her name, Rayna.  He didn't know why the other guys couldn't do that.  Someone pushed the locker room door open, and Mike heard feet behind him, but he didn't stop, just headed across the vehicle bay.  Hernandez already had the engine out back, hosing it down.  Manetti was inventorying the squad's supplies.  Mike waved the note at him.  The paramedic looked cross-eyed at it before shaking his head.

 

"Hamilton took the message, Mike; if you've got any questions, talk to him."

 

Mike kept his sigh to himself.  Great, just great.  If he could have handpicked the one person on any of the other shifts he did _not_ want to deal with concerning Rayna, it would have been Ron Hamilton.  The man was a Godzilla-sized version of Chet, with none of Chet's redeeming qualities--whatever those might be.  Dropping his hand to his side, Mike nodded his thanks to Manetti and headed for the day room, where Hamilton's coarse laughter echoed.  Captains Stanley and Murphy stood discussing the tire factory fire just inside their office door.  As Mike rounded the squad, his shadow caught up with him, solidifying into Roy, Chet at his heels.  Mike ignored them, stopping on the other side of the squad as Hamilton came out of the day room.  The large firefighter was looking backward over his shoulder, still laughing as he continued his conversation with someone.

 

"Yeah, well, we should all be as lucky as Stoker.  You seen the melons on that slut he’s shacked up with?”

 

There was dead silence in the bay for the two seconds it took for Hamilton to turn and meet Mike's fist head on.  Scott Medford caught him as the man was slammed around and down by the impact, and his crewmates grabbed Mike before he could do any more damage to Hamilton's face and his own career.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

_Oh, the prickly bush_

_it pricks my heart full-sore_

_And if ever I'm out of the prickly bush_

_I'll never get in it anymore._

 

_~~Traditional English Folk Song_

 

 

Half an hour later, Mike sat in Captain Stanley's office, one hand resting on the phone.  In the fuss and bustle following his decking Hamilton, he never had found out what he'd set out to ask in the first place:  whether or not Rayna had said anything about where she was calling from.  Hamilton was little damaged beyond a fat lip and a bruised ego; Mike's knuckles were just a bit swollen.  The fallout job-wise was a bit more severe.  In addition to now being on mandatory Administrative Leave while there was an investigation into his "attack" on his fellow firefighter, Mike was facing suspension, mandatory detail to another station, and he just might have permanently damaged his chances to make Captain. 

 

Nothing like losing the second most important thing in his life, when he'd already lost the first. 

 

Oh, he knew Hank Stanley would do his best; would fight tooth and nail not only to keep Mike at 51s, on the A-shift, but for the promotion as well.  All that despite the blistering lecture he'd just delivered.  But there wasn't much a Captain could do for even his best man when that man sabotaged his own career. 

 

Except give him the Captain's office, alone, to make what might the most difficult phone call of his life.

 

With a sigh, Mike picked up the hand set, listened to the dialtone for a moment while he stared at the piece of paper beside the phone.  _Your woman called... _ Well, if she was his woman, she'd be at his house, right?  He had to start somewhere.  Mike closed his eyes and dialed his home phone number--quickly, as if that would make it any easier if Rayna had called from somewhere else.

 

By the fourth ring he was sure he was gonna throw up.  Of course, it would help if he could breathe.

 

"Hello?"

 

It took Mike a second to find the air he needed to speak.

 

"Rayna?" he croaked and was rewarded with a repeat of her voice in his ear.  For a moment he just listened, closed his eyes and leaned back and let the sound he'd craved for the last week roll in and around inside his ear, soaking it in before he realized he'd need to pay attention to what she was actually saying.

 

"...but then I realized that even if I didn't have spelt flour I could make orange rolls, and so I don't need you to go by the store after all."  She laughed, a breathless gust of nervous static over the phone, and Mike frowned.  Orange rolls?  Spelt flour?  It wasn't like Rayna to babble like this, nor would she call him at work for something so unimportant.

 

"When'd you get back?" he heard himself ask, and there was a small silence on the phone before she sighed.

 

"Last night, about one.  But don't worry," she said, even as he drew breath to voice his concern.  "Marjorie and Art picked me up at the train station.  I wasn't out by myself."

 

Mike nodded, then said, "Okay."  There was silence on the line, silence filled with the thousand words Mike had rehearsed and discarded and rehearsed again over the last week, on the long drive back to LA from Oregon, over the lonely hours in the house aching for her presence, as he was scrubbing the latrines and floors around the station.  But somehow he couldn't get any of them to come out over the line.  As usual, Rayna found her voice first.

 

"I would have called, but it was late..."  There was another silence and the knot drew his gut tight again.  Rayna took a deep breath, and then blurted, "Mike, I know over the phone isn't the best way to do this, but..."

 

Oh no, here it came.  He braced himself, then forced his hand to relax the deathgrip he had on the arm of the Captain's desk chair.  They wouldn't appreciate having to replace the arm for finger-sized gouges.

 

"Mike, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

 

Her voice was soft and he swallowed, wishing desperately that it hadn't come to this, that he hadn't ever taken her to see his family, that he hadn't pushed her so hard, that he'd been willing to accept her and the relationship as she had wanted it to be.

 

"Rayna," he started to say, trying to stall her, to delay the inevitable for those final few precious seconds, but she went on, talking over him.

 

"I should never have said those things to you.  I had no right to say them and...I...I didn't mean any of it. I was angry and hurt and scared and...I took it out on you.  You have every right to be mad at me.  I...I don't know how you can forgive me, but...I'm sorry, honey."

 

Dead silence on his end this time as Mike tried to find his way back to his shifting reality.

"Wha--" he said, and swallowed, and tried again."No.No, I'm sorry.I...I should have known they'd react that way, and I've been pushing you about the marriage thing and..."He stopped, swallowed, and the door cracked open, Stanley's apologetic face peering through.Mike nodded, then looked away, absurdly embarrassed in front of his captain.Stanley backed out again as Mike picked up Hamilton's note and crumpled it in his hand."Rayna, look, I'll...we can talk about this when I get home.I'm off, I'll be there in a few minutes."




 

"Okay," she said, and then, softly, "I love you, and I've missed you."

 

"Yeah," Mike said, around the knot in his throat.  "I love you, too.  But I think Bardolph's missed you more than I have."

 

Rayna laughed, then, and Mike closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him like the rain.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

_Oh yes, I've brought you gold,_

_and yes I've brought your fee._

_For I've not come to see you hung_

_from the gallows tree._

 

_~~Traditional English Folk Song_

 

 

Half an hour later he was parking his blue Chevy behind Rayna's Corolla.  He got out of the truck and pulled his overly full gym bag after him.  Mike hadn't cleaned up at the station, not wanting to hang around B-shift any longer than he absolutely had to.  The locker room had been full, anyway.  Everyone from A-shift had lingered after the shift change, waiting for him to be done with his phone call.  Mike had appreciated the quiet show of support, even as he tried to shrug off their concern.  He'd made his bed, he'd have to lie in it.  So he'd gotten his gear out of his locker as quickly as he could and, still wearing his grimy turnout pants, simply left for home.

 

Bardolph greeted him as he opened the front door and stepped inside, the dog's tail wagging happily but not desperately as it had all this past week.  Rayna stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching silently as he patted Bardolph on the head and set his gym bag carefully on the coffee table.  In the corner by the fireplace, Inanna, Queen of Heaven, glowed brightly amidst the candles surrounding her.  And Mike stood up straight and faced Rayna for the first time in ten long days.

 

One hand up on the door frame, she wore a short, pumpkin-colored sweater with tiny buttons up the front over a long red and orange patterned skirt.  Beads of varying shapes and sizes dangled from her ears and hung round her neck, falling down over her breasts, some cascading all the way to her hips before turning about and beginning their upwards journey.  The light behind her created a flaming halo of her upswept hair and flared out around her luxurious figure.  With her dark, exotic eyes and the angled lines of her round face, the picture Rayna made was that of some primeval fire goddess. 

 

Hurrying across the living room of their house, her skirt and sweater smeared with flour, Rayna looked like _his_ goddess.

 

"Mike, what happened?"  Her fingers gently pulled at his chin so she could look at the bruises and cuts on his face, but Mike ignored her hand, just reached for her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.  For a brief second she resisted, then she pressed herself into him, her arms going around his neck. They stood that way, holding each other and breathing together, for far longer than it took Mike to remember how her body felt against his, to feel the stirring in his body that always accompanied holding her close, the need more insistent now with the long week of deprivation and despair behind him.

 

"Rayna," he breathed, and she was there, lifting her face to his.  He kissed her fiercely, then stooped and swung her up in a fireman's carry over his shoulders.  She shrieked and kicked and Bardolph barked, but he didn't put her down.

 

"Mike!  Put me down!"

 

And then they were both laughing as he maneuvered his way through the short hall to their bedroom, Rayna clutching tightly to his shoulders.  He dropped her carefully onto the bed, and she laid there, skirt flared about her, flour-dusted flames around the temple, as she laughed up at him. 

 

"Crazy hose jockey," she said, and Mike just grinned back at her before catching Bardolph by the collar.  He put the dog out and closed the door, and then laid down beside her on the bed.  He knew he reeked of smoke and fire and sweat and burned rubber; he knew he was going to have to explain much more, so much more than just the bruises on his face to her, but for now it was enough to just be here, with Rayna.  Mike propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her.  The curve of her cheek was soft beneath the rough skin of his hand as he caressed it.  Rayna rolled over on her side and stared back at him. 

 

Cinnamon eyes warm with worry, she reached inside his arm and brushed vainly at the soot on his nose, then touched his bruises gently with her long fingers and tried again.

 

"What happened?"

 

"Body bowling at the laundromat," he said.  "I got a strike."  His reward was one of her lovely, curving smiles.  For the next few minutes he spun out the details of the run, provoking Rayna into rampant giggles as he told her about hapless Hannah Morgan and her over-zealous cleaning attempts on her first day on the job. 

 

In the end they both were laughing, Mike enjoying the movement of Rayna's breasts beneath the soft, clinging material of her sweater.  Then their laughter died and Mike leaned over and kissed her.  She responded, and the kiss was long and hard while his hand dropped down and began work on the myriad buttons of her sweater, leaving sooty finger marks on its way down the soft material.  He had more than half the buttons undone before Rayna broke the kiss and her hands grabbed his.  Mike leaned back and stared at her, all the doubts and fears of the last week suddenly foremost in his mind.

 

"Mike...we need to talk," she said, staring intently into his eyes, and like any little boy denied his want, Mike decided to try pouting to get his way.  It had worked with Rayna in the past, sometimes--but not this time.  Rayna smiled, but she didn't give in.  Mike pulled his hand free of hers to flop back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, draped in dark blue gauze.  He didn't want to talk, he just wanted to forget the last two weeks had ever happened.  The bed shook beneath him as Rayna scooted over, elegant eyebrows drawn into a wrinkled worry line above her dark eyes.

 

"I...there's a few things I need to say, and if I don't say them now, I'm not sure I can."  Her smile was apologetic as she played with his suspender strap, putting her hand inside it and flattening it against his t-shirt covered stomach.  Mike lifted his arms and drew her to him.  She sat infinitesimally closer, but wouldn't lay down next to him, like he wanted.  Mike gave up, and simply ran his hands up and down her arms as she sat beside him, her sweater gaping open.  After a moment of awkward silence, Rayna captured one of his hands in her free hand, matching their fingers against each other before she wove her own fingers between his and folded them down over his hand. 

 

"Mike, I'm sorry I didn't call you from Seattle.  But I was so...so angry and upset and confused when I left Eugene... I...I was mad at Frank and Laura, I was mad at your step-dad and I...I was mad at you.  I...I wasn't even sure I was coming back at that point."  Mike stared up at the ceiling for a second, before he dared look over at Rayna. 

 

"I know," he tried to say, whispering it finally, when he couldn't find his regular speaking voice.  Rayna smiled slightly before looking away, her eyes tearing up.  Mike tightened his grip on her hand and tugged.  Tears streaked down her face when she looked back at him.  He wiped clumsily at one and left a dark streak of soot across her cheek.  He gave her a chagrined smile as Rayna wiped at the same cheek with the back of her hand.  She stared down at the resulting blotch for a second, then gave him a tiny smile.

 

"Mike..."She pressed her hand against his t-shirt again, staring at her fingers splayed out on his chest before she took a deep breath and looked straight at him."Other than Trini, you are the best thing that's ever happened to me.I didn't want to change anything about us because I didn't want to lose what we shared...even if it meant never marrying.I...I just want things to stay the way the same, so we can just go on being...happy."




 

Once again, Mike found himself scrambling to follow a conversation that had suddenly taken a strange u-turn and left him behind.  He blinked up at Rayna and frowned, but she stared out the window, lost in her own thoughts. 

 

"In Seattle last week, Mom and I talked a lot...she said...well, she said a lot of things, being the bossy, batty, Buddhist mom that she is."  Mike smiled briefly at Rayna's rather too accurate description of her mother.  Rayna's lips twitched, before she went on.  "Out of everything she said, what really stayed with me was what she said about relationships.  Like any living thing, a relationship can't stay the same, or it'll stagnate.  It'll die.  You either grow with each other, together, forward, or you grow apart, and go your separate ways.  It's not a choice, it's a fact." 

 

Mike's stomach growled, in spite of his sudden panic.  She couldn't be taking this where he thought she was, could she?  He moved, sat up and stared at her.  Rayna reached out to touch his face again, and smiled softly.  A woman wouldn't look at a man like that when she was about to dump him, would she?  Mike opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak, once again couldn't think of anything to say in his own defense, could only wait helplessly for the axe to fall.  Rayna's smile became bittersweet, and she brushed her fingers over his bruised cheek.

 

"And I realized that I was wrong, not just for what I said to you at the hotel that night, but for trying to hold you back, for fighting you on where this relationship was going.I...I can't keep things the same.I have to be willing to move on."

 

Mike snapped his mouth closed and swallowed.But there wasn't anything to swallow in his throat, except maybe his heart.




 

Oblivious to his distress, Rayna stared down at their entwined hands.  She spoke softly.  "That is...if you...if you still want to, Mike...I...I..."  Her voice faded away, and she swallowed audibly, before whispering, "I...What I'm trying to say is...Yes," she concluded simply.  Her hair falling down around her face, she peered up at him from beneath rust-colored eyelashes, chewing on one lip and smiling shyly.

 

Yes?  But to what?  Somewhere, somehow, he'd missed the question she was answering.  What did he want?  Mike stared at her for a long second, and then things suddenly fell into place.  He sat up and lifted her chin so he could see her face clearly.

 

"Yes?" He repeated, and she nodded, her smile growing as he stared open-mouthed at her.  "You're sure?  'Cause you don't have to if you don't want to.  I'm happy with things the way they were and I don't want you doing this just because my family is a bunch of--" Mike realized he was babbling about the time Rayna's fingers covered his mouth.  Dispensing for the moment with spoken language, he pulled her hand away and bent forward to kiss her, Rayna's lips melding with his.  This time she didn't object when his hand returned to her sweater buttons, and they fell back on the bed, together.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

_And if you wake up wondering _

_in the darkness I'll be there._

_My arms will close around you _

_and protect you with the truth._

 

_~~Justin Heyward_

 

 

The next night Mike answered the doorbell to find Hank Stanley standing on the porch.  The pleasantries of basic hospitality consumed a few minutes--getting Cap settled in the armchair with a cup of coffee and one of Rayna's orange rolls, always better the second day.  As he ate the roll, Rayna laughingly verified Mike's "body bowling" story with him.  Then she excused herself to the spare bedroom, where they were trying to make room for Trini to stay during the upcoming holiday season.  Mike sat on the edge of the couch next to Rayna's altar and clenched his hands nervously.

 

"Well, how bad is it?" he finally asked.  Stanley's cup and saucer rattled as he set them on the coffee table, and he took a deep breath before he looked at Mike and smiled slightly.

 

"Not as bad as it could have been, Mike" he said.  "Hamilton's mouth didn't do him any credit.  And you had plenty of witnesses."

 

His throat dry, Mike nodded.  Chet had stopped by earlier today, full of glee at the story he got from Johnny who got it from Manetti.  Seems that Hamilton had received a severe dressing down from his own Captain for his choice of terminology concerning Rayna.  Knowing he was already in trouble, Mike had briefly entertained the notion of decking Chet.  Up until that point he'd managed to not tell Rayna exactly what it was that Hamilton had called her.  Cap's voice broke into the somewhat enticing vision of Chet walking into his fist. 

"You're suspended without pay for two shifts.  Since Hamilton's a member of B-shift and he contributed to the incident, they won't force you to do detail anywhere else."

 

Mike swallowed, and looked down, staring at the healing cuts on his hand.  He would have survived filling in at another station for a while, if that had been enforced, but he would be lying if he'd said he wouldn't have missed A-shift.  After more than seven years together, they were his family, and, while he knew he'd leave eventually, it would have been hard to have been forced to do so.  Cap was watching him, quietly, and Mike pushed his relief back to an acceptable level and smiled at Cap.

 

"I can live with that," he said, and then there was a silence.  He couldn't bring himself to ask the next question, but Cap didn't make him.

 

"As for the Captain's exam..." Stanley hesitated.  "Not this year, Mike.  Maybe not next year.  But eventually, I think you'll be fine.  Hamilton's shouldering some of the blame for what happened, and that's what'll save you in time.  You'll still make a damn fine Captain, it just may take a little longer than you'd planned."

 

Mike blew out a deep breath and nodded.  His flash of anger meant they'd be putting more plans on hold than just him taking the Captain's exam, but at least it wasn't forever.  He could live with that too.  He still had the two things that meant the most to him.  Mike closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

 

"Thanks, Cap," he said, and Stanley returned his smile.  Eyes flicking over to the hallway, Cap asked quietly, "Everything else going all right?"

 

"Yeah."  Mike nodded and smiled slightly at Cap.  "We're working it out," he said, and Cap smiled in return.

 

"Well good, that's really good.  Glad to hear it."  There was a slightly awkward silence, and then Cap reached for his coffee cup.  "So," he said, "what are you going to do with all that spare time?"

 

Leaning back into the couch, Mike smiled at Cap.  He and Rayna had hashed that out over the last two days, making and then discarding plan after plan before they finally gave up trying to find a way to seat their families' conflicting belief systems at a traditional wedding--be it Buddhist or Protestant--or even Ancient Sumerian, as Rayna had laughingly threatened at one point.

 

Cap raised one bewildered eyebrow.  Mike knew he was grinning like an idiot--even worse, like Chet Kelly or John Gage after a big score on a date, but he didn't care.  Rayna peeked through the hall doorway, and Mike held a hand out to her.  She came through the room and sat on the arm of the couch beside him.  He grabbed her hand and turned his smile up at her, before looking back at Cap, who looked now as if he might buy Frank's theory that Rayna had bewitched Mike.  Mike took a deep breath, and then announced, "We're going to Las Vegas."

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

_Leave the drunkard to his bottle_

_and leave the prophet to his doom_

_Let the critics sneer and prattle_

_Give St. George some fighting room._

 

_~~John Tams_

 

 

Mike sipped his coffee quietly as the sounds of the shift change filled the station.  C-shift laughingly shared details from their run to the exotic bird show yesterday.  A-shift, his crew, his family, laughed at the story of the escaped parrots and the little, blue-haired ladies come to see the amazing birdies--but who didn't appreciate their periwinkle wigs being appropriated as impromptu perches.  It sounded like the kind of run that made up for a lot of the bad ones.  The banter faded into goodbyes, the voices of C-shift fading and leaving only Chet's voice, running in some sort of monologue, as usual. 

 

Mike set his cup down on the floor and turned the page of the Times.  The Dodgers had lost again; there wasn't any hope for a pennant this season either. 

 

"...so there she was, this gorgeous chick, and when she turned around on the runway, there was little popping noise, and then a whole bunch more popping noises, and then all the buttons went flying.  And I mean there were a lot of buttons."  Chet barely paused for breath as he led the way into the day room.  Johnny was at his heels; Roy and Bobby Cutler a little ways behind them.

 

"Yeah, so, she lost a button or two.  So what?"  Gage said, heading straight for the coffee pot Mike had refilled moments ago. 

 

"Gage, didn't you hear me?  There were a _lot_ of buttons.  In fact, this outfit didn't have any seams, it was held together by _buttons_."  Chet paused, and Mike didn't have to look up beyond his paper to see the lascivious grin on Chet's face. 

 

"Yeah?"  Okay, there would be lascivious grin number two, on Gage's face.  Roy would shake his head and roll his eyes a bit, and Cutler would be somewhere between the two extremes.  "So, what happened?"  The sound of coffee gurgling into cups accompanied Johnny's eager question.

 

"Well, the dress she had on, and it was a very short dress, mind you, it just sort of...fell away.  And you know these runway models, they don't have much room in those tight outfits, so they don't wear any underwear.  No underwear at all.  The buttons popped, the dress went _swoosh_ to the floor, and there she was.  Just standing there, in her...well, you know...her all-together.  Naked."

 

Someone choked, had to be Johnny.  Mike kept his eyes on the stats for the Lakers in the upcoming season.  It was safer than letting Johnny or Chet see his amusement at their expense.  Only Kelly would concoct such a cock-a-mamie story and expect someone to believe it; only Gage would be taken in by the other firefighter's ruse.

 

"You've got to be kidding me."  Johnny again.  Someone else snickered, sounded like Roy.  Chairs screeched across the floor; the guys were settling in at the table for their morning coffee.

 

"I swear it on my great-Grandma Fahey's grave, Gage.  The one with the--"

 

"Yeah, yeah, I know, the one with the Sight.  But I don't believe you.  That would have been all over the news."

 

"No it wouldn't, Gage, not if she didn't have anything on when it was over.  They can't show naked ladies on the news.  And believe me, she was naked.  She was standing there, naked as the day she was born."

 

"No way," Gage started, only to be interrupted by Roy's voice.

 

"Hey, Mike.  Good to see you back."

 

Mike dropped the paper just enough to see over and gave Roy and Cutler a brief smile. 

 

"It's good to be back," he said, and by Roy's smile, maybe he said it a little more forcefully than he intended.  But it was true.  Even though he and Rayna had made good use of his forced time off, she'd had to return to work herself as soon as they got back from Las Vegas.  Mike had spent a few too many days around the house by himself lately.  It felt good to be back at work. 

 

Taking a second to fold the paper, he tossed it at the other end of the couch.  He reclaimed his coffee cup from the floor as he stood.  "You guys leave any coffee for me?"  He held his cup up and headed over to the stove and what was left of the fresh pot of coffee.

 

"I think there's a little bit," Roy said, pulling out a chair and sitting at the table.  Cutler was already seated, staring at his coffee like he expected it to do something besides stay in his cup.  The man was definitely not a morning person.  Mike slapped his shoulder as he went by, and Cutler jumped.  He glared at Mike, before returning to his perusal of his coffee, muttering something about "abnormally chipper firefighters in the morning."  Roy grinned as got up to retrieve the paper Mike had left on the couch. 

 

The "naked model on the runway" story evidently forgotten, Johnny stood behind Chet at the counter and both men stared at Mike as he filled his cup.  Mike put the coffee pot down and gave them a sideways look.  He waited a second, then turned suddenly toward the pair.

 

"Boo!"

 

Chet blinked and Johnny jerked.

 

"Aw, man, Mike!  I can't believe you did that!"  Johnny set his cup down on the counter and swiped a hand ineffectively at the coffee stain down the front of his shirt.  Roy and Cutler both chuckled.  Chet grinned up at Mike before taunting Johnny.

 

"Mike didn't do anything, Gage.  That was all you.  Makes me wonder how you ever got it together enough to be a fireman."  Johnny glared at the room in general, then Chet and Mike in particular.  Mike didn't give any ground, though, staring right back at the dark-haired paramedic.

 

"Consider it payback for the shirt you cut off me two weeks ago," he said, grabbing his own cup and heading for the table. Grumbling and holding his shirt away from his body with one hand, Johnny headed for the door.  Chet picked up his cup and sauntered toward a seat beside Mike.

"So, Mike, how was Las Vegas?" Roy asked.The paper slapped on the table in front of him, almost covering the sound of Mike choking on his coffee.Johnny, halfway out of the room, halted and took a couple of steps back toward Mike.




 

"You went to Vegas?" he asked, pointing at Mike as if to be sure that Mike knew he was the one being asked.

 

Surreptitiously checking his own shirt for coffee stains, Mike took a sip before he shrugged.  What exactly had Cap told Roy?  It wasn't like Mike didn't plan on telling the guys about his and Rayna's marriage, he had just hoped to limit the amount of teasing he took on the subject--vain hope that that was, the way the guys were circling round him now.

 

"Sure, why not?" he finally said, looking over at Johnny, who grinned.

 

"Well, you gotta admit, Mike, that just doesn't strike me as the first place on your list of vacation spots." 

 

Trouble was, Johnny was right.  The Twenty-four Hour Church of Elvis hadn't exactly been on the top of Mike's list for wedding venues, either, but it had been legal.  Rayna had politely declined the breast-enhancement services also offered on the bill.  Johnny, seeing that Mike wasn't exactly wriggling off his hook, set one foot up on the chair next to him.  Bracing an elbow on his knee, he grinned around at the room before focusing on Mike again.

 

"So, ah...what'd you do while you were there?  Take anyone special with you?" 

 

Mike didn't have time to frame an answer.  Chet's hand snaked out and grabbed his left wrist before Mike could get his arm out of range.  Chet held his hand up like a trophy, and there was silence in the room as all five men stared at the silver ring encircling Mike's left ring finger.  Grinning widely, Chet opened his mouth, but Mike was rescued from whatever snide remark Kelly was dredging up when Cap leaned in the doorway.  He knocked on the wall inside the room.

 

"Roll call, Gents." 

There was a mass movement away from their coffee cups and toward the door.  Mike jerked his arm out of Chet's grip.

 

"Go find a girl to hold hands with," he said over the noise of chairs scooting out and feet rushing across the floor.  Mike pushed his own chair back and headed out the door into the vehicle bay after everyone else.  Roy, waiting outside, slapped him on the back as he went by, and said, "Congratulations."  Mike shrugged and smiled, pausing to shake the hand Roy held out.  Behind them, Chet snickered.

 

"Oh, yeah, Roy.  Congratulate him on gaining the ol' ball and chain," he said.  "Man, Stoker, you had it made.  You had the best deal, the kind of situation every bachelor dreams of.  Pretty girl, all the benefits of marriage and none of the commitment stuff.  What'd you have to go and ruin it for?"

 

"Kelly!  I'd like to get roll call done sometime before noon," Cap called.  Chet looked just the least bit chastened and they hurried to line up in front of Cap.  Captain Stanley made a big show of consulting his clip board. 

 

"Stoker, I've got your paperwork in the office.  Get it filled out for me sometime today, pal.  Gage, we can't take you anywhere, can we?"  Cap held up a hand to forestall Gage's protest.  "Just get a clean shirt, please--after roll call," he added, as Gage took half a step out of line.  Johnny nodded, and settled back in line, shooting a glare at Mike.  Mike just ignored him, smiling slightly.  Cap proceeded down his list, assigning chores and detailing the day's schedule of hydrant checks and new construction inspections. 

 

"Aw, Cap, why me?" Chet whined when he was assigned latrines.  "What about Stoker?  He hasn't done latrines all week."

 

Stanley just looked at him and smiled.

 

"Why, Chet, it's because we're still trying to housebreak you."

 

"I'm not sure that's a workable goal, Cap," Roy said, grinning.  Cutler laughed out loud.

 

"You don't have a performance review riding on that, do ya, Cap?" Johnny asked. 

 

Cap shook his head, with a glance toward heaven.

 

"No, thank god.  Or whatever," he added, glancing at Mike.  Mike smiled. 

 

"I think Chet's beyond any kind of divine intervention, Cap," he said.  "But maybe I could get Bardolph to give him some pointers."  Everyone laughed at that, except Chet, who just glared at Mike.

 

"You know, Stoker, I think I liked you better when you weren't talking to anybody," he groused, and the laughter continued.  Mike just smiled as Johnny slapped him on the back.  The phone rang in Cap's office and the men scattered to their duties, just as the tones went off.  With a deep sense of relief, Mike scrambled with the rest of the crew for turnouts and the engine.  Things were finally back to normal in his world.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 


End file.
